I am sitting in Taipei airport as we count down the hours of our seven hour layover - before we head home on our nearly eleven hour flight. I will be home at 7:30 Sunday night - but...it's already 7:00 Sunday night here.....
So we are done. It is hard to put into words what a complex experience this has been. We are all tired, and all looking forward to seeing you all again. I can guarantee you none of us will be asking for rice or noodles for a while, but having said that, I am more aware than ever of the fact that we have choices in these things, when so many people would be glad to have rice at all.
And now that we are so near to home, my words seem lame. I type some thoughts and feelings, delete them, start again. Maybe I will do what some of the others have done and just jot a few memories:
We had ten on the team, but when we arrived, we met Clayton, and we suddenly were a team of eleven. We thank God for this terrific young man who was so helpful to us. I was really impressed with his deep faith, his respect for the people of Cambodia, his sensitivity in difficult circumstances. And those Vietnamese coffees!! Clay, if you are out there, we talk about you every day, as if you were an old friend. Please keep in touch. I'm sure Marty will be writing to you.
And at home, there was Dave and the Home Team, keeping in touch, the glue that held this Home/Field Team together
"Eight strong men and two ancient nurses". And it clicked.
Yoda
My Little Sharks: wary, cautious kids who had never had a chance to learn what trust is. Did we make a blip? Will they remember that there are people who do not want to abuse them? I see their faces before me....It was so great that after the first few days they started to smile, then to laugh, then to play with us. Leaving them was hard. Their faces, some beautiful, some tough, some already beaten by life, flash before me as I walk through this glitzy airport selling stuff to the affluent.
I remember a couple of the older boys (ten years? eleven?) who followed Richard around. ("Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!"). It was great to watch them come to trust him, confused at first that there was no 'deal', then delighted that he liked them back, knew their names, kicked a soccer ball around with them, swung them on his strong arms. I was there when he said goodbye to these rough little guys. I think Richard was the best thing that has ever happened to them. The clean, healthy affection between them as they hugged good-bye was very moving.
I can still hear the kids at Place of Rescue singing, can still see them playing soccer with the guys on the team and the tuk tuk drivers, and hearing the shrieks of laughter and cheers.
The door that ate the paint
The garbage everywhere
The unrelenting red dust
The girls who returnd to Rahab's House....the delight on their faces made all the work worthwhile
The moped fuel in pop bottles being sold roadside
The shoe store....
The insane traffic
New Song..
Jeff's hospital
Riding in tuktuks, feeling the sun, wind, dust or rain on my face, and even better, riding on the back of a moto. Now that was fun!!
The yellow Cross
The market...if I stopped to seriously think about it I would probably turn and run. Tough survivors there too, like the young boys who shadowed me, made sure I did not get lost (How'd they know that I could get lost in Safeway parking lot, let alone this dank, dark twisted maze of a market?), fanned me, took me to booths to buy things, treated me like a cherished grandma (hoping for, and receiving my pathetic monetary thanks )....and who offered their bodies and sexual services to the guys on the team.
Our early morning devotional times, and our evening check ins.
The girl in the yellow dress.....
Seeing pink turn to yellow......that was so wonderful
"What did your last slave die of?" That's young Marty speakin'.
So many memories, and they are crashing in on me now, but I better go find the guys before they send out a search party.
Thanks to each of you for your prayers, your emails, your love.
Alll praise to Him.
K
So we are done. It is hard to put into words what a complex experience this has been. We are all tired, and all looking forward to seeing you all again. I can guarantee you none of us will be asking for rice or noodles for a while, but having said that, I am more aware than ever of the fact that we have choices in these things, when so many people would be glad to have rice at all.
And now that we are so near to home, my words seem lame. I type some thoughts and feelings, delete them, start again. Maybe I will do what some of the others have done and just jot a few memories:
We had ten on the team, but when we arrived, we met Clayton, and we suddenly were a team of eleven. We thank God for this terrific young man who was so helpful to us. I was really impressed with his deep faith, his respect for the people of Cambodia, his sensitivity in difficult circumstances. And those Vietnamese coffees!! Clay, if you are out there, we talk about you every day, as if you were an old friend. Please keep in touch. I'm sure Marty will be writing to you.
And at home, there was Dave and the Home Team, keeping in touch, the glue that held this Home/Field Team together
"Eight strong men and two ancient nurses". And it clicked.
Yoda
My Little Sharks: wary, cautious kids who had never had a chance to learn what trust is. Did we make a blip? Will they remember that there are people who do not want to abuse them? I see their faces before me....It was so great that after the first few days they started to smile, then to laugh, then to play with us. Leaving them was hard. Their faces, some beautiful, some tough, some already beaten by life, flash before me as I walk through this glitzy airport selling stuff to the affluent.
I remember a couple of the older boys (ten years? eleven?) who followed Richard around. ("Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!"). It was great to watch them come to trust him, confused at first that there was no 'deal', then delighted that he liked them back, knew their names, kicked a soccer ball around with them, swung them on his strong arms. I was there when he said goodbye to these rough little guys. I think Richard was the best thing that has ever happened to them. The clean, healthy affection between them as they hugged good-bye was very moving.
I can still hear the kids at Place of Rescue singing, can still see them playing soccer with the guys on the team and the tuk tuk drivers, and hearing the shrieks of laughter and cheers.
The door that ate the paintThe garbage everywhere
The unrelenting red dust
The girls who returnd to Rahab's House....the delight on their faces made all the work worthwhile
The moped fuel in pop bottles being sold roadside
The shoe store....
The insane traffic
New Song..
Jeff's hospital
Riding in tuktuks, feeling the sun, wind, dust or rain on my face, and even better, riding on the back of a moto. Now that was fun!!
The yellow Cross
The market...if I stopped to seriously think about it I would probably turn and run. Tough survivors there too, like the young boys who shadowed me, made sure I did not get lost (How'd they know that I could get lost in Safeway parking lot, let alone this dank, dark twisted maze of a market?), fanned me, took me to booths to buy things, treated me like a cherished grandma (hoping for, and receiving my pathetic monetary thanks )....and who offered their bodies and sexual services to the guys on the team.
Our early morning devotional times, and our evening check ins.
The girl in the yellow dress.....
Seeing pink turn to yellow......that was so wonderful
"What did your last slave die of?" That's young Marty speakin'.
So many memories, and they are crashing in on me now, but I better go find the guys before they send out a search party.
Thanks to each of you for your prayers, your emails, your love.
Alll praise to Him.
K
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